Condor
by No Satisfaction
Summary: Just as Sly's starting out his new life at Interpol try barely a week, a new threat arises, kidnapping the former Cooper gang members. Now, not even being amidst Interpol may save him.
1. Introduction: Cooper Captured

**Introduction**

Kaine Island 0300hrs

From the protective distance of nearly a mile, a boat drifted with the tide. The lights had been put out making it almost invisible up to several hundred yards. The storm that had tossed the boat around had subsided and there ceased to be any evidence of it. Eventually though, the moon had appeared from behind the clouds, finally revealing the boat. Out on the back deck, a figure sitting in a chair behind a high-powered telescope watched events unfold from beyond the lens; his face barely lit by the glowing embers of a cigarette clenched between his teeth.

Watching everything with the telescope was easy, it was capable of reading the label on a bottle of beer from three miles. The figure scoped around, observing what appeared to be a pirate ship on the far side of the island. Large portions of the massive mountain that had taken up much of the island had caved in, and the fortress that had surrounded the base had collapsed on itself. One thing that kept drawing his gaze was the large portal near the top of the mountain. He knew what it lead to. For years he had been searching for it's contents.

He quickly came upon on a much more interesting scene. A large patrol boat with Interpol markings was docked against a large rock formation, and several armor-clad primates were boarding it, two of the hulking gorillas held a stretcher between them. Laying on it was what appeared to be a confused and anxious raccoon, arguing that he get off, only to be arguing with a rather attractive fox, her hand on a fire engine red pistol.

The figure smirked.

"So it's finally happened," the figure said, drenched in a South American accent. "Sly Cooper's been captured."

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The final chapter of The Wedding will be up sometime soon, so enjoy what this fic has to offer for now, and one more thing...I NEED REVIEWS PEOPLE! GIMME PLENTY!


	2. Agreemant

**Agreement**

Two days later…

Interpol-Paris Division 0930hrs

A flashy red convertible pulled up into the parking lot of the six-story Interpol building. Out of it stepped a fox and a raccoon. Inspector Carmelita Fox had finally caught her quarry of four years, the world famous master thief Sly Cooper. Only she didn't expect to catch him like this. Following her was him. As far as she knew, his mind was a blank slate; he got too friendly with an energy blast and was knocked out cold.

Cooper had sustained a number of injuries. His forehead, an arm, and his upper torso had been bandaged. He had kept insisting that he didn't need to be carried away on a stretcher, but she forced him to. Now she had just picked him up from an overnight stay at a hospital. But all of that was pie in the sky compared to trying to get the chief to allow him in, let alone sneak through the busy building with him in tow.

"Hey there Fox!" one officer said. "How's about you and me tonight, dinner?"

"Back off Charlie!" Carmelita snarled, shoving the guy away.

"Hey, who's ya friend?" Charlie asked. "New guy?"

Sly and Carmelita said nothing and continued walking. Sly remained silent, but just beyond his calm physique, he wanted to slam that guy's head into the wall. They reached Chief Barkley's office. Carmelita knocked on the door, and after a quick silence, there was a gruff "WHAT IS IT?"

"Inspector Fox sir," Carmelita replied. "There is a matter to discuss with you sir."

"COME IN THEN!"

"Wait here Cooper," Carmelita said to Sly.

Sly simply nodded as his 'partner' entered the chief's office. For the brief moment, the place had the slight smell of cigar smoke. After she entered, Sly sat down on the opposite bench that had been conveniently placed there.

Carmelita sat down across from Chief Barkley, who was busy looking at several transcripts about the Kaine Island Operation.

"What is it Fox?" he asked not looking up to look at her.

"I got him," Carmelita said, crossing her legs.

The chief did a double take before asking "What?" in disbelief.

"I got Sly Cooper," she replied.

"Alright!" Barkley applauded. "So where's the bastard anyway?"

"In the hall," Carmelita answered, feeling a little aggravated at Sly being called a bastard for some reason.

"The jail hall?"

"No, I mean the HALL! He thinks he's one of us!" Carmelita said.

"WHAT?" the chief exploded.

"The guy got too friendly with an energy blast and is completely clueless as to who he is," Carmelita reasoned.

"You gotta be shittin' me!" Chief sighed. "Get 'em outta here."

"Wait chief!" Carmelita pleaded. "He's the perfect candidate for an Interpol officer. He has the skills that nobody else possesses, all he needs is a new identity."

"YOU THINK I'M GONNA WASTE THE TAX PAYERS MONEY TO TEACH POLICE TECHNIQUES TO THE GUY WHO'S MADE A LAUGHING STOCK OF LAW ENFORCEMENT?" Chief exploded.

"Chief he's perfect!" Carmelita pleaded. "He's got no memory of anything except his techniques, put him in the acdemy and he'll be the perfect crime buster."

"Since when have you came up to the defense of that no good thief?" the chief asked suspiciously.

At first Carmelita was trying to decide if she should tell him or not. "He saved my life okay? I think I owe him."

"Fine Fox!" the chief gave in. "But since you want him on the force so bad, you're his keeper, and that means your ass is on the line! Now show me the guy."

The two exited the office and into the hallway, only to gasp.

"He started it," Sly simply said.

Next to the bench he was sitting on was that guy Charlie lying unconscious with a bleeding nose.

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I might give Charlie a bigger role than Ass #1, and there will be several more guys like him throughout the fic. Once again, GIMME REVIEWS! 


	3. Training

**Training**

Thetraining facility was located on the northern side of the River Seine, deprived of its view of the Tour Eiffel unlike the Interpol HQ. The facility included an obstacle course (properly named 'The Widow Maker'), swimming pool, shooting range, and other amenities required for readying one for law enforcement. Outside near the obstacle course, Sly had lined up amidst several other officers-in-training. Pacing back and forth along the line was a uniformed wolf.

"Alright wusses!" he demanded. "I am your trainer, and YOU WILL address me as Commander Hursh! When I'm through with you, you will have learned the tactics of Interpol, its regulars, its SWAT, its plainclothes, and its undercovers. Fail my class, and you WILL end up no better than Chief Inspector of Metro toilets. Screw up, and that unpleasant feeling you'll have will be my BOOT UP YOUR ASS!"

Sly couldn't help but snicker, which, to his dismay, attracted the Commander Hursh's attention.

"You find something funny 'coon?" Hursh asked sarcastically.

"No sir!" Sly replied.

"You look familiar boy," Hursh whispered.

"If we've met, I wouldn't know," Sly said. "I have amnesia. That's why I'm here, again…"

"An amnesiac, huh?" Hursh muttered in reply.

Hursh was silent for a moment, measuring this familiar raccoon out. Then after a moment, he shrugged went back to his post

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About a week later, Inspector Fox received first of Sly's weekly evaluations. She grinned, seeing as her 'experiment' was going well. But even she couldn't help but be surprised at how well he was doing. He was excelling in almost every filed. In fact, he was so far ahead, he was expected to take final tests with another class later that month, well over a year ahead. Looking down the transcript, there was nothing but good news. Knowledge of law: good, marksmanship: average; the list continued. She finally spotted something, her smile turning into a frown.

"I knew this was inevitable…" she sighed, picking up the phone and dialing a number. "Hello, Colonel Zietel, this is Inspector Carmelita M. Fox, I would like to set up a meeting with you, regarding a Sylvester Cooper's performance in your field…"

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Colonel Zietel was facility's swimming instructor. A veteran of many search and rescue missions involving Interpol and other agencies, he was the best man for the job. His office overlooked the swimming pool. There was a knock on the door and a blue haired vixen stepped in. He immediately knew she was Inspector Fox.

"Inspector Fox, pleasure to meet you," he said, holding out his hand.

Carmelita shook his hand and took a seat across from him. "I'm here about Cooper."

"Ah yes, Cooper," Zeitel sighed. "Can't forget him. Several of the ladies under another instructor were swooning over him. Fortunately for them, they weren't around to witness him sink faster than a rock You'd think a guy this good would be able to swim. So far, he's quite the challenge. But give me a couple of days with him and the guy'll be pulling off Olympic class crap."

"Then you get your 'couple' of days," Carmelita replied. "It's not like Interpol will be needing hims ASAP. It's been a pleasure, now goodbye…" She then headed for the door.

"Wait Inspector," Zietel spluttred. "Just where did you find this guy? Cause he seems familiar."

"I'd tell, but I'd probably have to kill you," Carmelita joked, closing the door behind her.

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Sly was ready for his final test. He and several other trainees were given special suits and guns modified to shoot blanks and fire a laser in place of the bullets. The suits would turn white where the laser hit them. Their assignment, take back an Airbus 380. The plane was donated for these situations. To him, this was a test of how sneaky he could be.

Entering through the landing gear well, he found himself in the avionics room. From there, he passed into the cargo hold, and carefully detached the metal grate to a ventilation shaft. From there, he was in the overhead compartment.

There were at least six 'gunmen' and one 'sleeper'. And from his perch above the second story passenger compartment, he had the drop on the three men up there. Those guys didn't know what hit them. Suddenly, he came busting out from the ceiling panels behind the three men. With almost precision accuracy, he managed to down them. That was the signal for the others to take out the others.

Slipping down the stairs, he saw that two of the others were down, taken by the sleeper, and a third was downed by a gunman, who had been taken out himself.

"Shit" Sly muttered, ducking behind a row of seats as he heard a gunshot. He was the last one left.

Carefully peering through a crack between the seats. He spotted his quarry. Jumping out and aiming, he learned hisrifle jammed. Dodging the sleeper's 'bullets' he leapt over two rows of seat and onto the gunman, sprawling them both out onto the aisle.

"Gotcha!" Sly said, holding his pistol to the guy's head.

He passed with flying colors.


	4. My Fist, Your Face

**My Fist, Your Face**

Sly entered the French Division of Interpol, ready for his first true day on the job. He almost knew the place entirely by heart, having visited it several timesduring his thieving days. On the second floor was the clink, third through fifth floors were the offices and cubicles, basement was the locker and workout rooms. He was expected to meet with the chief as soon as he came in. Stepping out onto the fifth floor, he immediately spotted Barkley's office.

"Come in!" Barkley yelled out from the other side of the door as Sly knocked.

"Greetings Chief," Sly said, closing the door behind him.

"Take a sit," Barkley muttered. "I just acquired your file, it should tell you everything, criminals you busted, how much your monthly paycheck is, bonuses, how you have in your life savings, recent partners, date of birth, etcetera, etcetera…"

Barkley handed Sly the file and upon opening it, Sly knew it was a fake file. Instead of talking of his criminal career, and just as importantly, his ancestry, it listed everything about everything he's done as a cop.

"…And your partnered with Fox," Barkley added. "She's my best officer and it's only suitable to partner her with someone with equally impressive credentials."

"Thank you sir," Sly replied, not knowing what to say.

"And one more thing," Barkley added. "Get out of my sight, Fox's office on fourth."

"Bye sir," Sly said, leaving the office.

Upon heading for the elevator, he heard someone yell at him. Turning around, he could tell who it was. He was almost unmistakable by the off-white cast over his nose.

"S'up Charlie?" Sly said with a smirk, admiring his work.

"Don't give me that bullshithappy attitude!" Charlie yelled, poking Sly in the chest with a bony finger. "That incident was a fluke! You couldn't do shit!"

By now, the two had gathered almost everyone's attention.

"Oh really? Cause the broken nose says otherwise," Sly said, rolling his eyes.

"Screw you!" Cahrlie yelled, shoving Sly. "You couldn't touch me even if your hands were glued to my ass!"

"My hands glued to your ass?" Sly asked, dripping with sarcasm. "That sounds sweet. I'm guessing then that your badge works both ways, huh?"

There was an 'oooh' murmur from the crown as well as 'no he didn't' s.

"THAT'S IT SHIT HEAD!" Charlie shrieked. "YOU, ME, NOW!"

"Fine," Sly talked. "It doesn't look like you could any dumber…"

Before he could finish his snappy comeback, his face met fist. The impact caused Sly to stumble back into a desk. Getting up, he realized he had a trickle of blood running from his nose.

"Wow," Sly said. "You can make me bleed. Know any other tricks? Like proving you're a bigger idiot than I first thought you were?"

Charlie grunted and went at Sly again, only this time, Sly swung to the side, grabbed Charlie's wrist, wrenched it behind him, and kicked him in the back of the knees, causing Charlie to fall forward, smashing the glass case for the fire axe with his face. Charlie rolled over onto his back, groaning. His nose was broken, **again**, and his face was covered with several scratches. Picking up a towel, Sly threw it on Charlie.

"Wipe yourself off," Sly said. "Your bleeding."

Then he entered the elevator, hit the down button, and saw that several girls were giving him generous looks just as the door closed.

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A/N: Does anybody know the name of the band that made the song 'My Fist Your Face'? Anyone? I know, so tell me if you do. Hint: They did 'Dream On', 'Walk This Way' and 'Sweet Emotion'. If you don't know it now then you're an idiot. Anyway, review people!

Next chapter, we'll find out who that guy in the introduction is. Read n' review!


	5. Condor

Last chapter I had a little trivia question, and for once, somebody had answer my trivia. So Desperado, since you were the first to answer, you win.**

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**Condor**

The well kept, modern building of Universal Exports was nothing more than just a façade. Built over the remains of Deutsche Ost Afrika Line's Hamburg property, it stood fifteen stories, as in addition to a vast basement facility. While on the inside it looked as legitimate as it's exterior, only the secret facility deep underneath it's false basement was truly functional.

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When Sly Cooper first started his thieving career, there were three criminal organizations that topped Interpol's hit list. The Fiendish Five, the Klaww Gang, and Condor. As each one fell, the second fiddle would take its place. The Klaww Gang overshadowed the Fiendish Five after its end of a long lasting reign of terror ended when four members were captured, and the fifth, disappeared. But after two years on top, the Klaww Gang too, fell. And replaced byCondor.

Condor was the worst of the worst. It was the single most dangerous, powerful, deadlier than the Mafia, Fiendish Five, or Klaww Gang put together. Gaining it's power through extortion, bribery, and wiping out the competition.

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Henri Modock eyed his fellow leaders grouped around the table. Sitting at the end of the table, it was clear that he was the leader. He craned his lean neck to gaze at a fellow member.

"Report number 6?" he said.

"Yes sir," a nervous monkey said. "The Sicilian Project was a success. Within a couple of months, our installations will be able to form a radio wave type wall spanning the globe, preventing rockets to missiles to space shuttles from reaching Earth's uppermost atmosphere and space, with the exception of a nominal fee of course…"

"Excellent," Henri said, his voice lacking any enthusiasm. "Your report number two… number two? LARGO!"

The seat designated for second in command was empty. But there was somebody on the other side of the table.

"Temper, temper, Henri," a voice said, drenched with a South American accent.

"Emile," Henri said. "Your father may have started this organization, and if it weren't for his best wishes,You would've beenkilled, let alone removed."

"Henri, Henri, Henri," Largo said, stepping into the light. "I have a little story to tell you, in fact, all of you."

Emile Largo was a deep brown-feathered condor, his face holding asmug grin. His father had started the organization, but because of at the time of his death-Emile wasn't old enough nor capable enough to run the business-he had his best friend Henri Modock take control and watch over Emile.

A large screen lit up; off to the side of the table. Everyone turned around to watch. It was showing pictures and drawings of many different raccoons.

"Once upon a time…" Largo began. "There was this clan. They were the longest running family of world class thieves, almost like Robin Hood, only he didn't exist. It all started with Slytankahmen the first and second. They were notorious for knocking off corrupt pharaohs of ancient Egypt. Then came Sir Galethor the Knight of medieval England; some records of him the most chivalrous of the entire clan. He was then followed by Salien Al Coopar of Arabia; the sneakiest of all thieves in history. Then the Scandinavian hulk known as Slai McCooper; who was known for cracking people skulls in half with his fists. Then the Thief of Fuso…Fuso, Japan…Rioichi Cooper. Then the scourge of the Caribbean, Anrietta 'One-Eyed' Cooper, female pirate. Then came gun totin' tobacco spittin' Tennessee Kid Cooper. Then Victorian Londoner Thaddeus Winslow Cooper, I give him kudos for being the most gentlemanly of the clan. Then came famous fighter ace Otto van Cooper; he served as a fighter pilot in World War One and used machines to do his bidding. And a more recent one…"

Another picture appeared, this one of a child sitting in the lap of his father, only the picture cut off, preventing any view of his face.

"…This guy was killed on his son's birthday, or at least the night before…" the slideshow ended. "Now tell me people, what do all these clan members have in common?"

Everyone consulted each other. After about a few minutes, one finally came up with something.

"They have a weird question mark shaft thing on the ends of their weapons," the monkey from before said.

"Finally, somebody with a good eye!" Largo exclaimed in a goofy way. "Anybody else? No? They're Coopers!"

"Wait!" Henri yelled. "You mean to tell me all these people are somehow related to Sly Cooper?"

"Yep, that last chap I mentioned was his father," Largo answered.

"Poor kid to have his dad killed on his birthday," somebody mumbled.

"You go on here talking about the chronological ancestry of some thief and for what?" Henri barked.

"Records showed that much of whatever they stole never left them, yet when each of them died, they had very little," Largo said. "Each one of them… So then, where did all that stuff they stole go?"

"Charity?" someone asked.

"WRONG!" Largo exclaimed. "IT ALL WENT TO A SECRET VAULT!"

An image of an island appeared. It was mostly a mountain surrounded at the base by a crumbling fortress.

"Kaine Island, near the Fiji islands in the South Pacific," Largo continued. "Home to the world's largest stash of valuables!"

"Cut to the damn chase Emile!" Henri scoffed.

"Get me a couple of freighters, plenty of men, heavy lifting equipment, etcetera, etcetera, and this organization will have no spending limit for the rest of our natural born lives people!"

"You sure this is the big time Emile?" Henri asked, intrigued. "What about Sly Cooper? I seriously doubt he would take you ransacking his family vault with good graces."

"He won't know a thing," Emile said with a smile. "Not when he's rotting in jail."

"Prison?" Everyone seemed to exclaimed in disbelief.

"I saw it with my own eyes, he was being carried away by cops from the very island."

There was a pause. Some of the members simply looked at Largo like he was a crazy treasure hunter, while others looked at it as an opportunity to become even more rich and powerful than they could everthought possible.

"Done!" Henri said. "Pleasure doing business with you pal."

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Yep, 'tis a greed plot. And I hope I got the names of the Cooper Clan members right, or at least close. R&R 


	6. Don't Get Your Hopes Up

A/N- to answer somebody's question as to how you pronounce Emile Largo's first name, its': Em-eel. And in addition, the other Cooper Gang members WILL make an appearance hopefully in either the next chapter or the one after. So R&R.

Warning: major ass kicking in this chapter!

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**Don't Get Your Hopes Up**

**Kaine Island, 80mi SW of Fiji- freighter S.S. Narrung- 0945hrs- 2 days later**

Emile Largo laid back on his deck chair on the forecastle of the lead freighter. On both sides were several more freighters, all of them owned by one of Condor's fronts, Lemke & Buechner. All together there was a fleet of five freighters, a personnel boat, and two heavy lift vessels carrying three barges each for the machinery.

Just the night before, Interpol had lifted its blockade around the island deserted, leaving the island uninhabited and unprotected. Perfect conditions for treasure plundering.

Emile smiled as he watched the island slowly come closer. And then finally the Narrung's baritone whistle rang out across the ocean, signaling the other ships to stop. At the rate the fleet was traveling, it nearly took forever for the vessels to slow to stop.

"Why'd we stop?" Emile demanded as he entered the bridge. "We're still a good half-mile away."

"Sorry Mr. Largo," the captain apologized. "But the personnel boat that pulled ahead of us did a sounding and apparently there is ring of reefs and shallows circling our side of the island. It's deep enough for all the ships to come through, but when the freighters are fully loaded, we'd be grounded on them. You predicted two days of operations, but I hope you've made room for another two, 'cause I'd give this project three days, four days tops."

"Very well Captain Lenargos," Emile said. "Radio the other ships, and tell them to disembark all personnel assigned to this job and converge on the beach head, straight ahead."

"Aye aye sir." Lenargos replied.

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**Paris, France-Interpol Paris Division-0955hrs**

Sly sat back in his chair. For the past two days, nothing exciting had happened. So far nothing had competed with the excitement involved with busting Charlie's nose for a second time. His tail twitched in annoyance. So far, he was ready to jump out the window; at least that was something to do.

BANG!

The door to the office flew open as Carmelita kicked it open, her face contorted in sheer anger. Sly figured there were only two things here at Interpol that could get her so flustered like this; either Barkley chewed her out again, or the horn-dogs down the hallway it on her again.

"Barkley?" Sly asked.

"No" she replied, slamming the door and heading for her seat.

"Charlie?"

"No," she answered, her demeanor calmer now as she sat back in her chair. "Stopped when you broke his nose and used his face as a glass breaker."

"Your welcome," Sly smirked.

Suddenly, the door flew open again and Barkley stepped in. "Need you two down on Rue le Dodge, now! A repeat of West Hollywood is going on over there!"

Rue le Doge was over on the opposite bank of the Seine River, several blocks away from the Sacre-Coeur. Pulling up in Carmelita's red convertible, they were instantly taken aback by the chaos that was ensuing.

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**Kaine Island, 1010hrs**

The trek up the mountainside was perilous due to the loose soil and rocks as well as the steep drop-offs. Eventually, the group of men led by Largo reached a rusting metal platform littered with disused lasers and drills. The platform was also strewn with wooden canes tipped with a brass-like question mark. But the prize here was the opening to the Cooper Vault. Already opened, it provided instant access to the inner dwellings of the Cooper treasure.

"No good," one guy said. He was peering down the shaft that led to the entrance lobby of the gauntlet.

"What?" Emile asked, strutting over to the rabbit. "What do you mean it's no good?"

"The shaft," the rabbit said. "It's blocked. Must've caved in."

Sure enough, the drop off that should have been several dozen to several hundred feet deep, only ended about five feet down, completely blocked by rubble.

"Then we'll find another way in," Emile said. "He motioned to another rabbit."

"Radio the base camp to get the drilling equipment and seismic equipment," he muttered. "Tell them main entrance no good, need to make news one."

The rabbit nodded and pulled out a radio.

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**Rue le Dodge, Paris-1015hrs.**

Sly ducked as a bullet struck the hood of the police cruiser in front of him. Looking around, there must have been three gunmen at least, and god only knows how many inside the bank. Several police cruisers were now reduced to nothing but bullet sponges, and three officers were down, but not dead. He noticed that the officers that were able to get a shot off were only hitting the body armor over the gunmen's torso.

"AIM FOR THE LEGS AND HEAD!" Sly yelled, pulling the trigger a few times on his gun. Sure enough, he hit one in the kneecap.

There was a cloud of blood as the kneecap of a gunman seemed to explode from the bullet, and the gunman collapsed, his hands now being used to try to stop the bleeding instead of holding the assault rifle. This managed to provide a big enough distraction for Sly so that he could sneak away into a neighboring building.

Climbing the stairs, he kicked out the door to the roof. On the far end was the roof of the back, a good ten feet or so from the roof he was on. Sprinting across the roof, he feral pounced the distanced and landed safely. Coincidentally, the door to the rooftop blew open, a gunman exiting it, unnoticing Sly. Quick as lightning, he dispatched the robber, using pretty much the same technique he used on Charlie.

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"Where's Cooper?" Carmelita asked. She lost track of him when a barrage of bullets tore through almost everything.

"Dunno," an officer replied.

"AIM FOR THE LEGS AND HEAD!" a familiar voice yelled.

She looked around but couldn't see her partner. Then suddenly a gunman collapsed, his kneecap blown off. Looking around again, she thought she saw that familiar ringed tail disappear into the neighboring building.

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Sly was now in the back room of the ground floor, hidden, but with no way of getting into the lobby without being spotted-and shot at-by three other gunmen staking out there. He needed a distraction. Running back up the stairs to the second floor, he opened a window and aimed his gun. This time, the bullet hit a ducking gunman in the rear end, causing him to collapse on his side, screaming "MY ASS! SOMEONE SHOT MY ASS!"

He was taking aim at the third one when somebody else shot him. His right leg severed at the knee from the round.

Sly now had his distraction. With Interpol now gaining ground outside, the robbers were now trying to fend them off. Pulling out the grating to a vent, he crawled in. He now found himself if the manager's office, which was connected to the bank vault and provided little view from the main lobby. There, he saw a fourth robber pulling out a duffel bag full of euros. Carefully, he removed the grating, and struck.

The robber didn't see it coming. Sly landed on him, the momentum thrusting the robber's head into the desk, knocking him out. The lobby had the lights shut down so that it was harder for the police to see inside. So Sly turned them on.

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"Hey!" an officer yelled. "The lights are on!"

"I see three gunmen in there," another officer said, peering through a pair of binoculars. "WAIT! I see somebody else."

"Who?" Carmelita asked, snatching the binoculars away from the officer, the strap choking him. "Cooper!"

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"FREEZE!" Cooper yelled, quickly pulling the trigger, a bullet catching a gunman in his right arm.

The others, taken aback, made themselves instant sitting ducks. Sly pulled the trigger again, but it was empty. Thinking on the fly, he threw his gun, catching a second robber in the head, causing him to fall back onto a low-rise table, his gun flying to the other side. Leaping for the legs, Sly caught the other below the waist, casing him collapse into the window, causing it to crack.

Turning around, he saw the second guy get up, running across the table to get his gun. Sly was much faster, and stomped on the end of the table, causing it to catapult the robber forward, smashing his head into the brick wall. Picking up the guns, and punching the other two robbers out cold, he walked outside, tossing the guns to the side.

There was somewhat of a cheer and a mob of relieved cops overtook him.

"That was an awesome can of whoop ass you opened up in there!" someone said.

"Wish you were my partner," a female cop said in a flirty tone.

"Well done Cooper," Carmelita said, pulling him away from the crowd. "You should get a promotion for this."

"Please, just call me Sly," Sly replied. "And thanks Inspector Fox."

"Your welcome, but please," Carmelita said. "Just call me Carmelita."

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**Kaine Island-2200 hrs**

"No, no, NO!" Emile yelped.

All around, there was nothing but water and rock. The giant cave was empty, with the exception of the occasional gold piece lying on the ground. Several minutes before, the drill team hit the cave.

"WHERE IS IT?" he shrieked, collapsing to his knees, covering his face with his wings.

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A/N: whoo! Hope that was long and action-packed enough for ya! And if you seen the ending to Sly 3, then you should know where the treasure went. 


	7. Statendam

Statendam

**Universal Exports, Hamburg, Germany, 1100hrs-Two Days later**

Emile Largo looked like a broken man. His life's work gone, before he had a chance to even see it, much less get a hold over it. Now he was prone to short temperedness, and everyone feared him to be a loose canon ready to go off. As soon as the Narrung docked in Chile, he took a flight back to Hamburg. Now sitting in front of him was his best computer hacker in Condor's employement. Yves Gluont had been hacking computers since his days in school, back when there were much less sophisticated computers. He was first discovered when he managed to hack into a super computer at a company he worked for and raised his paycheck from 500fr to 1000fr a month. His only mistake was buying a Ferrari with his ill gotten gains and showing it off to his manager; who in turn told the big boss: Henri Modock.

"Nothing," Yves said, looking away from the computer to Largo.

"Look AGAIN!" Largo seethed.

"HEY!" Yves defended. "I'm about to get a writer's cramp from doing your bidding, and I'm still not finding anything on your treasure! I've practically gone through all the Interpol files with a fine tooth comb and all I can find is that they never managed to find any of Cooper's gold! The only think that could remotely be of any relation to that are the files on Cooper!"

Out sheer rage and frustration, Emile kicked the chair out from underneath the hacker, and jamming his neck into the table edge, choking him.

"Then find me EVERYTHING on the Cooper Gang members," Emile muttered into Yves ear. "Got that?"

"Yes," Yves tried to say.

Emile sneered and released the hacker and left, letting him fall to the ground, clutching his neck.

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**1300hrs**

"I've pinpointed the general locations of Cooper Gang members," Yves said, motioning to a wall map with several pins sticking from it.

"We got a sport diver near Jamaica, he'll be in Kingston to dedicate two new cruise yachts called the Orduna and the Orbita" he continued. "There's an aboriginal guru in the Australian Outback. A monk living in the Kunlun Mountains, but makes a seasonal trip to Hong Kong with his daughter. An RC specialist by the name of Penelope, also a pilot, she's in the Netherlands along with another member, Bentley. And then there's the getaway driver, currently in the van stock circuit and will be a participant of the van stock races at Talladega, Texas."

"Wait," Emile interrupted. "There are four pinpoints. There should be five. Where's Cooper?"

"I couldn't find any info on him anywhere," Yves replied. "His file's been closed, but there's no record of any prison he's in. I've even checked every single prison under management of Interpol and still nothing."

There was a short pause before Emile put his finger up to a pin. "Here," he said. "That's where we'll go. Holland. I think it's time we paid a visit to Bentley an his squeeze…"

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Interpol Paris Division-1500hrs 

Sly lounged in his chair. He had nothing to do, he was getting bored of flirting with the other girls, and his attept to make Carmelita jealous in hopes of seeing if she really likes him had grown stale. He knew she had to have liked him, because as long as he can remember, he was her only partner she allowed to address him informally and plus, if she didn't like him, then why did she lie to him say he was a cop and not a master thief?

Sly smirked. Yeah, she likes me, he thought. He wondered what the guys were doing. From what he heard, Murray was in the stock van circuit, and from replays of the race footage, he was becoming notorious as the driver who WILL survive any kind of crash, especially the ones that tend to kill. And then Dimitri, with his money, had built two luxury cruise yachts to compete with Seaborn Cruises and another two hundred footer for himself. Sly smirked again; maybe he should go for a cruise for his next vacation.

By now, he wasn't so bored. He had a lot on his mind. And one of them was the Police Ball. He wanted to ask Carmelita to it so badly, but for some reason, when he was about to ask her, he'd choke and change the subject. He couldn't figure out why, but he believed that his beloved would just turn him down like all the rest. But on the other hand, he might lose his chance to ask her out, though, he realized, was unlikely. Carmelita would still be available, after all, she does turn down every guy who asked her, except Winthorpe, the intern, but that's because she's completely oblivious to him. Then again, he always chose the wrong time to say things to her; like his futile flirting with her while she's too deep in thought.

"Enough beating around the bush," Sly muttered to himself. "I'm gonna ask her out, and if she says no, then I'll be cool with it."

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Statendam, Holland-Next Day-0730hrs 

Bentley finished the last of his coffee, looking over at his girlfriend, Penelope. Things had gone well after the Cooper Vault job, just like everyone else, they finished with a void in their heart. Sly was gone, likelihood of seeing him anytime soon was very slim, and the gang now scattered, but still together through a brotherly bond they created together. Panda King returned to his estate in the Kunlun Mountain range to meditate and watch over his daughter, Guru was teaching dreamtime to rock stars, Murray had his racing, Dimitri had his sport diving, and he had his beloved Penelope.

Together they had started an engineering firm that already had several rich clienteles. Murray and Dimitri were regulars. Murray used any of the latest technology they invented installed into his van to give him a very much legal edge, and Dimitri had them design his cruise ships from the keel up.

"Ready?" Bentley asked. "The Fokermann Contracts are not something we should be late for."

"Yep," Penelope replied, pulling on her jacket.

The Mercedes glided down the road, heading for the facilities that made up their engineering firm. When ACES was abandoned, the guest hangars and the Black Baron castle were left vacant for them. The Baron's castle became the offices and administrations, as well as the vaults for the blue prints and technologies, and the hangars about a tenth of a mile away became the production and testing facilities.

Upon parking the sedan, the two got out, and made their way to the elevator. But upon entering their office, there was already a person there.

"Who are you?" Bentley asked.

There was a muffled sound and Bentley slumped in his wheelchair. Penelope tried to scream but somebody had grabbed her from behind and clamped their paw over her mouth. She couldn't move and tears were forming. She was going to die, she thought. And another muffled sound came and a dart struck her in the neck. She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

"Grab 'em and get going!" Emile ordered, placing the dart gun in his pants.

The henchmen silently and carefully brought the unconscious couple to the loading dock; a sublevel underneath the castle, and thrown in the back of a trailer. Emile climbed into the cab, sitting shotgun, while the other henchmen sat behind him or in the trailer. The semi left the docks, exiting out onto the road through the town. Since it had the company logo on it, nobody held any suspicion what's so ever. But to the keen observer, company trucks don't pass through town, only through the facility before entering the countryside…

* * *

uh-oh! looks like the Cooper Gangs in trouble! R&R people, R&R. 


	8. The Carribean Caper

A/N: My fing phone plan changed so my internet is considered a long distance call. So expect fewer updates. Aww-man, now I'm gonna miss updates from you fine reviewers… N-S out!

**The Caribbean Caper**

**Kingston, Jamaica-1200hrs-One day later**

Dimitri Lousteau stepped up to the podium, and cleared his throat. Flanking him on his left and right were two new towering cruise ships. His pride and joys; his future moneymakers: MV Orbita and Orduna, both vessels a symbol of his wealth and love of the sea.

"Greetings cool cats!" he spoke into the microphone. "And thank you for coming to the christening of my new ships. And I would like to give a big paw to ma greasy sweet bro who designed these fine ladies from the keel up, from the vault security to figuring out the perfect temperature for da pool! Too bad he's in Holland. And I wish to shine on the other dudes who've been like family to me but have gone on!"

"I would now like to celebrate my lovelies, so I hereby tile these ladies Orduna…"

Dimitri pushed a button and a bottle of champagne on the end of a line was hurled at one boat, smashing itself on the prow. The ship let out a high pitched monotone sound from its horn.

"…Orbita!"

He pressed another button and the same thing happened. The crowed cheered and the two ships fired off their horns in unison. Smiling, Dimitri turned around to head to the opposite end of the dock, where his luxury yacht was. It was called the M/Y Thunder Beak, and at over four hundred feet, it was one of the largest private owned yachts in the world. A yellow peacock figurehead graced the prow, standing out against the navy blue hull and white superstructure. He stepped on board and entered the grand atrium, an opening that passed through all seven decks. At the bottom was the grand lounge, a vast room that took up over two thirds of the bottom deck, and the floor was glass paneled, providing unparalleled views of the ocean bottom. With limited space, the yacht was built with Alstrom Mermaid Azipods, the only yacht to have them. Riding the elevator to the top observation deck, he gazed out towards his two ships.

"Paul!" Dimitri said as he entered the bridge. "Let's light this fuse and high tail it!"

"Sure thing sir" Captain Paul said. "But there is a storm coming, but she should hold her own."

"Got that right groovy baby!" Dimitri replied, thumbs up. "I'll be in my suite."

And he left the bridge.

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**Interpol Paris Division-1235hrs**

Sly waited in the parking lot. Normally he'd catch a ride from Carmelita, but he wanted an excuse to be able to drive his new car. One of the gunmen he beat down with his foot had an old black and yellow '70 Buick GSX, and was impounded and put up for a police auction. Sly couldn't resist and put up two of his bonuses, he got one for each of the seven gunmen he went action hero on. And since each bonus had a very hefty amount, he was able to pay for the GSX, as well as buy new frurniture for his apartment, which still left him with still a quite a bit of cash.

"_Bonjour mademoiselle!_" Sly greeted as Carmelita pulled into her parking space, which happened to be next to his.

"Hey! I see some _cibiche_ parked in your space," Carmelita muttered, thinking that Cooper chose to walk, like he said he would.

"That _cibiche_ happens to be me," Sly smirked, leaning against his car.

"That's your car?" Carmelita asked in shock and awe. "That's a nice car!"

"Yeah, got from yesterday's police auction," Sly said, walking with Carmelita to the elevator. "One of robbers now has drug possession on his rap sheet 'cause we found about a kilo of Columbian pure taped to the undercarriage."

"Still, that's a nice car!" Carmelita said.

"Everyone thinks it's nice," Sly conceded. Rarely does a '70's American muscle car turn up in a European city, even if it is Paris, so rarely would an Interpol officer even come across a fine tuned machine.

As they entered the elevator, the doors closing, Sly found it the perfect time to ask.

"Hey Carmelita?" Sly asked.

"Shoot," she replied.

"Would you go to the Police Ball with me?" Sly asked. Internally, he winced for the near imminent answere.

"Yes."

"Well I understand if you don't want to WHAT DID YOU SAY?"

"I said yes," Carmelita answered, in a tone more suitable for saying 'Are you deaf moron?'

"So I'll pick you up in the GSX" Sly said.

"I love the GSX," Carmelita sighed like a love struck schoolgirl.

"Everybody loves the GSX."

As they exited the elevator, they were greeted by Winthorpe, the intern, who had an odd look on his face. "Have you heard? Two members of the Cooper Gang are missing. Bentley and Penelope I think their names are. They've been kidnapped!"

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**Somewhere between Kingston and Nassau-M/Y Thunder Beak-1400hrs**

Dimitri gazed out towards the nonexistent sea bottom through the floor of the grand lounge. Apart from his breathing and the faint sounds of the propellers swirling the water around, it was silent. He was actually feeling little tired and was not in the mood to listen to his groove music. He yawned and started for the stairs.

He reached the main hallway to his multilevel suite when he had to squeeze past a crewmember.

"Funny, that dude no ring a ding-ding," he muttered to himself.

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**1700hrs**

The Thunder Beak was heading straight into a storm. While waves were high enough to just break over the foredeck, the occasional monster was able break over the foredeck and send heavy spray over the bridge windows two decks above. But Captain Paul Vutsiness was quite calm. He was an experienced sailor and went through tougher storms in smaller seventy foot fishing vessels. But something didn't seem right. He saw a few crewmen he was unfamiliar with, and he knew all of the sixty men crew. And new hiring's he would be told about.

Emile Largo pulled out a silenced 9mm. He would be unable to escape with Dimitri unless he took care of the crew on the bridge. He closed the closet door, hiding the dead steward, and carried the dinner tray to the bridge. Underneath a napkin was his gun.

The two crewmembers didn't see it coming as two knives were stuck upside their brainstems. They were dead before they hit the floor of the helicopter hangar. Stepping over them were five 'crewmembers' dressed with heavy weather coats.

"Let's do this," one said. And he grabbed the switch to the hangar door and pulled it down.

"Just set it down," Paul muttered to the 'steward.' Since the crew on watch in the bridge couldn't leave their post they had dinner sent to them.

"Very well," Emile said, setting the tray down onto the control console.

Suddenly a light flashed on.

"Son of a bitch!" Paul muttered upon seeing it. "Someone's opened the hangar door! He'll swamp us!"

Paul turned to head for the hallway, but found a gun pointed at his face. "Just business," Emile muttered as he shot Paul in the head.

Dimitri woke up to a horrible dream, but he couldn't remember what it was. He shrugged it off and headed for his mini-bar. The door flew opened and two men entered.

"What the hell are you two uncool cats doing?" he yelled.

A muffled shot went off as a dart implanted itself in Dimitri's neck. The two men snatched Dimitri's inert body and headed upstairs for the helipad. The five men had now piled into the helicopter, soaking wet from the rain and sea spray they wer exposed to from trying to move the helicopter out of the hangar. Emile soon entered, done from his hideous deed. Now all five men on the bridge were nothing more than bullet sponges.

The helicopter took off, leaving the Thunder Beak vulnerable through her hangar, and now without a captain. The Thunder Beak was now on it's own. And Dimitri was gone.


	9. Champ de Courses

**Champ de Courses**

**Between Kingston and Nassau-1000hrs-next day**

A lone helicopter past through the clear sky. With the markings it had, it was clear that it was an Interpol flight. Onboard were pilot Jimmy Dye and his co-pilot Warren Earl. Also onboard were Commander David Banks and three of his men.

"We should see land in about ten minutes," Dye said, looking back to David Banks and his men.

"What on earth is that?" Earl said, seeing something in the distance.

Everyone looked to where Earl was looking. Sure enough in the distance, there was a large rust colored hump bobbing with the waves off in the distance. "Let's take a look."

"Look's like a ship turned turtle," Dye said. "Any reports of a missing ship?"

"No," Banks said, flipping through a list on the clipboard. "But the motor yacht Thunder Beak didn't come into Nassau."

"That's the Thunder Beak all right," Dye said.

"How can you tell?" Banks asked, doubtful.

"The Thunder Beak has a blue hull with rust red anti-fouling," Dye answered. "This vessel's got it. And the Thunder Beak's got azipod propulsion, if you look carefully you can see them poking out of the water. And to top it off, it had a glass bottom, obvious right here!"

"Take a look," Banks said.

"Can we land on 'er?" Earl asked.

"Let's see," Dye said, and the helicopter slowly descended on the bottom of the capsized yacht. "Call in for backup. Poor bastards, must've ran into one hell of a wave in last night's storm."

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Interpol Paris Division-1200hrs 

Sly had trouble concentrating. Ever since yesterday's news, he was simply trying to show intrigue in his friend's kidnapping, while showing no hints of him not having amnesia. Who would kidnap Bentley and Penelope, no doubt it had to be that they were being forced to build some weapon. He sighed, pretending to be looking at his paperwork and leaned his chair back.

"FOX!" Sly fell out of his chair, well, more like it rolled out from beneath him out of the surprise. "MY OFFICE NOW!"

Carmelita looked at Sly quizzically, then left for Chief Barkley's office.

"Yes Chief?" Carmelita asked.

"It's about Cooper," Barkley muttered. Carmelita paled a little. "No doubt you've heard that two; uh, Bentley and Penelope, I think."

"Yes sir, Winthorpe told me about it," Carmelita replied.

"This morning one of our helicopters found a capsized yacht belonging to Dimitri," Barkley continued. "Two out of sixty people on board survived. That left fifty eight dead, but Dimitri's not among them and seven other crewmen are missing, as well a diver found find men on the bridge shot to death, and the helicopter for the yacht is gone. Now what happened aboard that yacht we don't know, but we do know that Dimitri is gone, likely spirited away. And these two kidnappings, I have doubt they're just coincidences. So I need you to keep a hawk's eye on Cooper at all times. If these kidnappings are connected, no doubt Cooper is a target, along with the other three members, whether he remembers anything or not, are we clear inspector?"

"Yes sir," Carmelita answered and headed for the door.

"One more thing," Barkley said. "Don't tell Cooper, we don't want him regaining any of memories of his past."

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Talladega Race Track, Texas-1500hrs 

Murray finished the waxing on his precious van, whilst his pit crew finished tuning up the fine racing machine. 'The Murray' as he was known, hadn't been on the stock van tour very long, but he had his own fan club already. Though he didn't always come in first, he continued to be the main event; during the last race in Daytona, there was a major pile-up and his van took the brunt of it; fatal normally, but Murray managed to eject himself from his seat while the van flipped and rolled, and bounced away; curled up in a ball.

The van remained very much the same, only the Cooper Gang symbol was removed from the front and back and the satellite and radio antennas now folded down for streamlining. The super computer was removed, and there was now a single bunk and gimbaled mini fridge. While most vans in the circuit would flip from taking the turns, Bentley had developed a weight distribution system, so that while g-forces pulled on the van from one side, the system would counteract it by shifting the weights positioned in the under carriage to the other side.

"She's ready to fly," an albatross in a jumpsuit said, closing the hood.

"All right Orville," Murray smirked. "What'ya say Wilbur?"

A twin albatross slid out from underneath the van. "Okay to go."

Meanwhile, a smug condor looked at the pink hippo through the opened garage door. "Tomorrow…tomorrow."


	10. Rolling Thunder

A/N: Naturally, what kind of fic by me would this is if there wasn't any SlyCarm action in it, eh? Enjoy! Oh, and there is absolutely nothing related to this fic and _Talladega Nights_, its just a coincidence that they take place at the same speedway.

Sorry for the long ass update, finally got a new connection so I can now use the internet as long as possible; homework has been wearing the hell out of me, and I've been having trouble on how I should do this chapter. So R&R big time!

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Rolling Thunder Talladega Super Speedway-1500hrs 

"You're gonna win… you're gonna win…" Murray inaudibly muttered to himself.

He gripped hard on the wheel, the leather of his gloves squeaking from the strain. He had gone through the drill hundreds of times, but never was he more edgy than the moments before the race. It was hard mask his instincts, in fact, he felt much more comfortable taking the tight turns and close quarters of driving through city back streets while being pursued by multiple police cruisers, much like the botched Cairo heist. In fact, he treated racing exactly like a police pursuit.

There was the wave of the flag and the vans took off, Murray surprisingly taking fifth place by the first turn. Now it was only a matter of time.

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Paris, France-Sly's Apartment-1600hrs 

"You can do this…I can do this…" Sly said to himself, fixing the tie on his suit. "…I CAN'T DO THIS!"

When it came to flirting with Carmelita, he was just fine, but now he was on a formal date with her, and he was as nervous as hell. Whenever he looked into the mirror, he looked like he had gone through hell, no matter how many times he had fixed up his hair, or ironed his shirt, or shined his shoes. At one point he accidentally got a drop of shoe polish on his hand and took another shower.

"Please let this go well," he said to no one in particular as he took his seat behind the wheel of his car.

Carmelita was just as nervous. She didn't even notice that the three dresses she tried on was really the same one. She had been used to Sly's flirty remarks, but now she was on a **date** with him, of all the things she thought wouldn't happen, she wasn't so sure about some things. Almost every woman at the office had been turned on by Sly's performance at the bank robbery; after all, since when had a single cop taken on five guys armed with AK-47's using just his go given fists and feet? Probably never. There was a knock on her apartment door and she quickly straightened her dress.

"You're late," she said as she opened the door.

"Stopped to pick these up," Sly said, holding out bouquet of flowers. "For you."

Carmelita gave a silent gasp as she accepted the flowers. Of all the guys she'd dated, he was the first one who actually pitched in the money for a decent, if not beautiful, bouquet of flowers. "They're beautiful."

"Like you," Sly added.

This made Carmelita blush heavily, and she was given no other choice but to head into the kitchen to get the flowers water and recompose herself.

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Police Ball-1700hrs 

The Police Ball was held at the Hotel Grande, just outside of Paris. A roadway led to a half-tunnel underneath the building and branched off into an underground parking lot. Hotel Grande was as the name suggested: big and grand. Nestled into the hillside, most of the rooms were given a gorgeous view of the valley, especially the ballroom. The ballroom itself was a two story room that took up most of the main floor, just below the lobby, and had a long walkway spanning the full width of the room, allowing the best view of the valley. On it's clearest day, one could see for miles.

People were mostly talking, with the exception of those dancing out in the middle of the ballroom. And several stopped to stare in awe as the two partners entered the room and headed for a table. Two guys talking stared silently when one finally broke the silence and said, "Pay-up, they hooked up." The other guy ended up pulling out a wad of cash from his inner jacket pocket and handed it to the first.

"When your toes are long an jagged enough…" Sly muttered. "…that you swoop down on a lake and catch a trout with them, it would be a good idea to say no to the open toes shoes."

Carmelita realized that Sly was looking at a woman who was wearing open toes high heels and sure enough, her toes were horrible looking. She gave a muffled laugh, but it caught Sly's attention.

"Do it again," Sly said.

"Do what?" Carmelita asked, confused.

"Smile," Sly said a smile forming on his face. "I don't think I've seen you smile like that before."

Upon breaking the ice, the two began to talk. Sly hadn't had a conversation with her like this since when he was being moved after defeating Clock-La. Meanwhile, a pair of eyes gazed at the two in malice.

Dexter Smyth was the jackass of Interpol, and also one of the biggest ass's around. He quickly stopped a waiter who was quickly going towards the couple for any drink requests. He quickly stuck a fifty euro note in the waiter's jacket.

"Whatever he asks for, put this in his drink," Dexter said, slipping a small thing of eye moisturizer.

"Sure thing sir," the waiter said.

A few minutes later, Dexter decided to crash the couple's conversation, setting his drink down.

"Hey if it isn't the ringtail and his partner, the hotter than hell Carmelita Fox, may I say you look lovely," he started.

"Go away Dex," Carmelita growled.

Right then, the waiter reappeared and settled Sly's drink next to Dex's. Unfortunately, Sly had ordered the same drink that Dex had.

"Look, I'm just here to ask if you'd leave this loser and get it on with me," Dex said, taking a swig of his drink.

"Beat it Casanova, go seduce yourself!" Carmelita growled.

"Me and Miss Fox are busy," Sly interjected. "So if you don't mind, why don't you just leave us alone, and return to whatever nudie mag you were 'one man banding' to in the bathroom."

"You think you could talk that way about me?" Dex yelled, attracting attention from a few people. "It may have happened once, but let's get this straight…" Suddenly there was a loud groan from his lower stomach and he became twitchy. "Wrong drink," he strained to mutter as he clutched himself. "Hold that though and stay right there!"

Dex ran off, heading for the bathrooms. Sly simply chuckled.

"I saw him tell the waiter to slip the eye moisturizer in my drink," Sly chuckled. "Judging by how fast it kicked in, he'll be doing a 'Marathon Dump'."

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Talladega Speedway-1800hrs 

Murray managed to win several small battles for first place. But still, now he was on the last lap and now he was in second place. He was nearing the final turn and the driver ahead of him was countering his every move.

"Come on!" Murray grunted. "Get out of my way!"

Suddenly, the car ahead of him had a blowout. The pressure from it was great enough to send shards of half-melted rubber towards the crowds, but never made into the stands. The windshield of his van cracked as Murray struggled to avoid the spinning out racer ahead of him. The van ahead reeled around and plowed into the concrete pylons and swung back out into the middle of the track.

"JESUS!" Murray yelled as he literally split bent the wheel from the tension in his fists.

He swung his van around, causing it to fishtail into the other van. The two vehicles made contact, and Murray's was bounced back into alignment with a little more than just a fender bender. Though he could hardly hear it from his adrenaline fueled deafness, the crowd was cheering as he made it across the finish line, and ready for his victory lap.

By the second turn of his victory lap, things went wrong. Out of nowhere, three black Nissan Skylines pulled onto the track, boxing him in. Two to the side of him came down on him hard.

"Sonavabitch!" Murray grunted. "Try this dumbass!"

He stomped on the brake, causing the third Skyline to rear end him, effectively stopping the guy while the other two skylines slammed into each other. Murray quickly turned the wheel so that he was turning toward the garages in the middle of the track. The windshield immediately turned to Swiss cheese as gunmen with Clarions opened fire on him. Murray brought his beloved van around, broad siding a car and effectively turning the car's opened door into a projectile as the van turned it into a Frisbee and slammed into a gunman's knees, breaking both of them.

"So long jackass!" Murray yelled as he floored it.

Murray made just to the outside area of the complex when an unseen skyline t-boned him in the rear, causing his van to swing about. The swing was too much for the onboard weight distribution system and the van flipped and slammed into a parked car.

Stumbling out of his trashed van, he started to flip it back right side up. He just managed it when he felt a painful pinprick and fell to the ground, slowly losing consciousness.

"My baby," Murray whispered absentmindedly, and passed out.

"Pathetic," Emile said, blowing on the barrel of his dart gun. "Take the van too!"

An eighteen-wheeler pulled up and two men came out, attaching a line from the winch in the trailer to the van, while others shackled Murray up and threw him into the trailer too.

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**Hotel Grande-1830hrs**

"Here's to absolutely nothing," Sly said, holding up a glass of champagne.

"To nothing," Carmelita giggled, clinging her glass with his.

Tonight, they thought was the perfect night, as they sipped their champagne and gazed out at the stars, oblivious to what had been happening a ocean away.


	11. Meditation, Expiration

Hey, this is NS comein' out to say how glad I am over your support. So for now on, I'm going to have one of those 'Dear Editor' type things at the beginning of every chapter, and I will be giving a reply to your reviews. It doesn't need to be a question, and if you don't want your review posted, let me know. So to begin with, the only two people who reviewed my last chapter: (check recent reviews to know what they wrote)

**PixieGirl13-**_I know how it feels; I'm friggin' swamped with homework. Last week I had to lug home five (COUNT THEM!) FIVE DAMN TEXTBOOKS! And thank you for you for your warm criticism about the race, and Sly and Carmelita's date. And I only wish I could have better integrated the 'Marathon Dump' line. And sorry about the wisdom teeth; but hey! At least you didn't have to have your appendix removed in the middle of a life-threatening situation (my appendix had ruptured). And thank you for reviewing._

**Heiduska**-_Thank you for being my longest kept (and most loyal) reviewer. And don't worry, Sly and Carmelita's evening won't be spoiled, trust me. And to answer the second to the last line: Those two will get even happier! Unfortunately, I don't know how long it'll take to get the next chapter out, cause I know how this story will end but I haven't figured out the right way of getting to the climax. And thank you for reviewing this, and all my other stories._

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**Meditation, Expiration**

**Paris outskirts-2300hrs**

Carmelita gave a sigh of contentment as she gazed out at the Parisian skyline. Sitting next to her was her date; Sly. He was admiring the view too, or so she thought. His arms were crossed behind his head, creating a headrest as he laid back against the windshield. Being a gentleman, he chose to sit on the side of the GSX's hood where the tachometer was; it's bulge digging into his lower back.

Sly would every now and then gaze at his partner out of the corner of his eyes, and each time, he felt a wave of happiness and delight break over him. Carmelita was meant to be dropped off at her apartment two hours ago, but neither one seemed to want the night to end. The radio weakly let out the music flowing from its speakers, happily out of reach of the two. Yet the thought of Bentley and Penelope kidnapped continued to nag at his conscience. How could I be enjoying myself when my friends are in peril? He thought.

"Hey Carmelita?" Sly said.

"Hm?"

"I was suppose to drop you off two hours ago," he said.

"And I could stay out here for another two hours," Carmelita replied.

"We got work tomorrow," Sly said.

"So?" Carmelita replied in a 'what's your point' tone.

"So, maybe I should take you home," Sly continued, sliding off the hood and opening the door.

"Fine," Carmelita sighed. It was obvious she didn't want to go home.

Carmelita didn't want to go home. Now, home reminded her of how lonely she was. She sometimes recalled comparing herself to a lone candle in the dark. But now it seemed that another candle had been lighten to join her. And now she felt that if they parted, the same menace that had taken his friends was going to blow that candle out. Carmelita finally admitted it to herself. She was in love with Sly Cooper.

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**Paris-2400hrs**

"Thank you for the lovely evening," Carmelita said, smile of content washed over her face.

Sly gave a concealed yawn; he hasn't been out this late since the incident on Kaine Island. "My pleasure," he said as they entered the small elevator. He flirtingly snake his arm around her and pushed the button to the floor that her apartment was on.

"May I interest you in dinner some time?" Sly said, his demeanor showing a hint of the same shyness he had when he first asked her to the ball.

"Only if you accept a little reward." Carmelita answered with a question of her own, mischief in her eyes.

"Like what?" Sly asked, showing an even vaguer trace of confusion.

Carmelita bent her head forward, catching Sly by surprised. He couldn't have been anymore caught off guard than the American at Pearl Harbor. Their lips collided, and for what seemed to be nearly an eternity, they parted. The elevator doors opened and Carmelita backed out, still gazing at a rather surprised Sly Cooper gawking at her in hidden delight. She smiled at him.

"Consider that a down payment," Carmelita said, just before the elevator doors started to close.

"I look forward to collecting the rest," Sly smugly replied as the doors closed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Australian Outback-1200hrs**

With last evening's chaos in Talladega, Interpol had no other choice but to dispatch recon to watch over the last two known members of the Cooper Gang; the Guru and Panda King. Once a month, Panda King and Guru visit each other for a meditating session, in which they harnessed their mental abilities to create a Dreamtime SIM, not a far cry away from a 'Matrix', in which they communicated telepathically. Last month was spent in the Kunlun Mountains, so this time, Panda King came to Australia, his daughter, Jing King in tow. She would often take a bus and train to Sydney for sightseeing, Panda King had promised Jing King that before they left for home, they would spend a weekend in New Zealand.

"I sense trouble," Panda King observed. "Someone is in great danger."

Guru, dressed in much normal cloths suitable for their sightseeing walk around Sydney looked around. He immediately observed an Interpol marked car, two officers watching them carefully.

"I see them too," Panda said. He felt a tug on his arm and looked down to see the Guru pointing in shock at something.

He was pointing to a newspaper dispenser. The headlines said _'Hero Driver Kidnapped In Plain Sight of Thousands!'_ and below it was a picture of Murray of when he had first received his first trophy.

"In the name of Sidartha!" Panda exclaimed, sticking in several quarters until the lock to the dispenser unlocked, and he pulled out a copy.

The two read the article in horror and amazement. An old friend had been brutally abducted, in front of millions of people at the end of a race. They didn't just take Murray; they took the van with them. As they read on, they learned of Penelope and Bentley's kidnappings. And then in a little footnote at the bottom of the page announced of the disappearance of Dimitri and the sinking of his yacht.

"It's a revenge spree," Panda inquired in awe.

'gibberish' Guru said.

"I don't know what could be happening," Panda King muttered in frustration. If only he knew where Sly was.

"LOOK OUT!" the two head several people yelled.

Guru and Panda King narrowly jumped out of the way as a wrecking ball flew through the air they ahd just occupied seconds before, and the ball came swinging back.

The two Interpol officers saw this happening and knew what was going on. But they weren't given the chance to get out of their car as a semi barreled into them. The car erupted in flames as the truck shoved it through the guard rail and down a drop off, landing into a lowered parking lot to the nearby beach.

Several men in suits toting high caliber pistols came running at them, and the two monks knew that they had to run. They ducked into a nearby alleyway and ran into a nearby warehouse, where they split up.

The men came barging in, looking for their targets. They too split up, looking for their quarry. The first group rounded through several containers when they were met with a ball of fire. Shriek was admitted form their mouths as the searing pain brought them down. The second group heard this and came running in the direction of the happenings, leaving one guy on his own to search for the other. As he passed down the rows of boxes, he failed to notice one behind him shape shift into a purple koala bear.

The other men came rushing head on at the Panda King.

"Thou shalt not take us without a fight!" Panda King roared, his flame fu making Mongolian chicken out of several of the men.

Suddenly, another man came rushing through, mowing down the others in his path. Clinging to the back of his head like a brain burrowing parasite was the Guru. But their fight didn't last long, as a container from crane swept down, scooping them up, and the doors shutting tight as the container reached the highest point of its swing and collided with the ground.

"One left to go," Emile muttered, abandoning the controls of the crane.

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**Interpol-Paris Division-1230hrs**

There was no way of keeping it a secret. Interpol was in an uproar. Even Sly knew now. Murray had been kidnapped on Live TV, and two Interpol officers were killed as Guru and Panda King were taken too.

The gossip around the office had been dominated by these disturbing events, but was overshadowed by what happened at the party. News had spread fast about a possible 'romance' between Cooper and Fox. While some admitted they seemed made for each other, others scowled and hoped that their courtship wouldn't last.

Sly was near next to blowing his cover in anxiety. He knew he had to find the people responsible for these kidnappings, but he couldn't just put any major interest into this case or else he'll blow his cover.

"Hey Carmelita," Sly said. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

"No, why?" Carmelita asked.

"I was wondering if you'd care to join me for dinner," Sly said. "My treat."

With the chaos surrounding the former Cooper Gang members, all that Sly had left of them were his memories and Carmelita. While she wasn't a true member of the Cooper Gang, and she'd probably never be, Sly looked out for her. He didn't want any harm to come to her, and while he knew he would become the next target for the kidnappers, he knew that Carmelita would some how get in the way or be used as insurance if he was too difficult to capture. And just as in the Cooper Vault, he was willing to sacrifice his life to save hers, and his friends.

"Sure," Carmelita answered, smiling. "Where'd we go?"

"I don't know, wherever you'd like to," Sly replied. "How about that restaurant at the Eiffel Tower?"

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**SS Narrung-Off Queensland, Australia-1000hrs**

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T FIND HIM?" Emile yelled out over the satellite connection. "THE BASTARD MUST BE SOMEWHERE!"

Yves Gluont winced and gave a slight tremble in his office in Hamburg. "I swear! No prison in any relation with Interpol has him registered; his own file doesn't even list him as incarcerated. Hold on!" Yves said, noticing something he had overlooked on Sly's record. "I think I got something!"

"What did you find?" Emile asked, hoping for good news.

"It says he's deceased," Yves stated.

"WHAT!" Emile yelled. He was so loud that the bridge crew, and Captain Lenargos jumped. At least one guy seemed to have peed himself.

"It says he died of cerebral hemorrhaging after a nasty accident on Kaine Island," Yves said, crossing his legs to hide his own wet spot. "Died while being transported under custody."

Emile gave and angered sigh and collapsed into his chair in the radio room.

"What time did you say you saw him being taken?" Yves asked.

"It was around one in the morning, why?" Emile answered, wondering where this could possibly be going.

"Cause it says here that he died almost a half hour earlier!" Yves answered.

"So the bastard's still alive, no doubt under control of Interpol somehow," Emile said, glad to know that the final piece of his plane was still alive. "Anything else?"

"No, but I now have a good idea what to look for," Yves said. "I should hopefully have results for you when you get back to Hamburg."

"Good," Emile said. "

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**Like I previously stated, I don't know when I'll get the next chapter up, but I do expect to get a murder/mystery up if anyone's interested. It's called _Leviathan_ and if it does come up, expect plenty of deception, thieving, and murder. So let me know. Best 2/3 reviews wins.**


	12. Where is He?

**Where is He?**

**Hamburg, Germany-2000hrs**

"We don't know where he is!" Murray yelped, taking another punch to the face.

"I'm going to ask you again politely," Emile grunted, his face red with anger. "Where on the mother f'in world is your mother f'in leader?"

"We don't know!" Bentley yelled. He was replied with a blow to the head.

"I didn't ask you!" Emile yelled. "WHERE IS HE?"

Everybody seemed to cower in fear, even though they had been strapped down and left to the mercy of their captives.

"Emile!" Yves said over the intercom.

"WHAT?"

"I think I found something."

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**Paris, France**

Since the Police Ball, this was their third dinner. Sly couldn't help but steal glances at his companion whom, when he wasn't looking, she'd sneak glances at him. Already gossip was going around that their supposed relationship was progressing quickly, and in ways, it was true. Carmelita loved Sly, though she was having difficulty accepting it. Every time he smiled at her, looked at her, kissed her, there was a strong sensation that would increasingly build up. And she would pack it down deep inside of her.

"Hey Carmelita?" Sly asked.

"Yes?"

"How close were we before my accident?" Sly asked.

Carmelita didn't know how to answer that. "Close somewhat I guess."

Sly gave a tiny smile, resisting the urge to lean over across the table to kiss her. He also wanted to say something else, but it felt that it was too early in their relationship for him to say it.

"I love you," he muttered under his breath.

"What?" Carmelita asked, having not heard what he had said.

"Nothing," Sly said.

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**Hamburg, Germany**

"I found this," Yves said, bringing up a file on a large projection screen.

"So? It's Cooper's record," Emile grunted.

"Okay, I did some more searching right?" Yves addressed. "But this time I also searched the data banks for those working under Interpol…"

"Gimme a W-T-F!" Emile interrupted. "You mean to tell me that you think Cooper's working for Interpol? I believe the story of him dying more that your theory, after all, they could've mixed up the time."

"That's true," Yves consoled. "But explain this."

Another file came up, one on a constable. "When constables first get on the force, a file is made of him. It says that this one Constable Cooper was on the Paris division for over three years."

"So?" Emile grunted. "So his last name is Cooper, it could be a coincidence." But Emile had a strong feeling that it wasn't.

"But look at when his file was made," Yves said, pointing to a date. "This guy was on the force for close to four years, yet his record wasn't even made until a few weeks ago, and at least three days after you saw him on Kaine Island."

"The bastard is alive!" Emile yelled. "And now he's got nearly an army's worth law enforcers behind him…"

"There is no way we could possibly get him," Yves said. "There's already a manhunt for us starting from snatching those two nerds from Statendam, nabbing a respectable officer from the ranks of Interpol would be suicide! He's next in line for a promotion! He never leaves his partner's side, or the other way around…"

"Who is his partner?"

"Inspector Carmelita Montoya Fox…" Yves said.

"AHA!" Emile whooped. "THAT'S HIS WEAKNESS!"

"His…wha?" Yves asked, flabbergasted by his own confusion.

"Sly Cooper is has a thing for her," Emile said. "If anything, those two could be dating. We nab him, she'll be on us like fly's on a horse's ass with back-up, but if we nab her, he won't risk getting her hurt…"

"Ingenious!" Yves applauded. "Hold on, let me bring up…aha! Got her address."

"No," Emile said in a low and serious voice. "We need to make this not look like a kidnapping. Tell Modock to acquire me an ambulance with Paris hospital markings…tomorrow, we strike."


	13. Sour Milk

**Sour Milk**

**Paris, France-0700hrs**

Carmelita literally shook out of her bed in shock as the annoying scream of her alarm clock blared. Quickly smacking, she silenced it, only to realize that now she had to by a new one having slammed her fist down hard enough to crack in nearly two pieces. After having her breakfast and coffee, she quickly dressed and headed outside to wait for her carpool. Her convertible was in the shop after a police chase nearly tore out the axles.

The GSX eventually pulled up, and Sly exited it, flashing a smile at her and circling around the car to open the passenger side door. A little flattered by this chivalrous act, she gave him a warm smile and entered the car.

"Had a good night's rest?" Sly asked, putting the car into gear and pressing the accelerator.

She hadn't remembered until he had said so. Up until now she had forgotten a dream she had, and upon remembering what it was about, she heavily blushed. If any knowledge about that dream were to slip out, she might be scorned from all social life in the office, and worst of all, people might mistake it for being real and ask an extremely awkward question.

"What about you?" Carmelita quickly replied.

"Fine," Sly replied.

But deep down he was blushing too. His involuntary dreams stemmed up inner embarrassment at the thought of any knowledge about his dreams getting out. He could feel the tension building between the two of them, but he knew it was best for her to come around on her own; after all, their relationship was about a week old. But he knew that one day, he'd have to tell her the truth.

"Hey Carmelita," Sly began.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing," Sly sighed. "Never mind…"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The milkman never saw it coming. One moment he was dropping off crates of bottled milk, the next, a mystery man was garroting him. He struggled but to no vain. Eventually, the shine in his eyes dulled and his striped tail stopped twitching, and he collapsed to the ground.

"Do something about this body," Emile said, winding up his garrote and hiding it in his pocket.

After swapping cloths with the milkman, he sat in the driver's seat of his truck and drove towards the back alleys of the Interpol Paris precinct.

"Yo!" he said to the back doorman of the precinct. "I'm suppose to drop these off."

"This precinct doesn't get milk!" the officer said.

"Well it says here that it's on my route!" Emile argued. "I'll show!"

Stepping out of his seat, holding a clipboard, he strutted to the officer. "See! Right here!"

With swift speed, he whipped out his garrote, wrapping it around his neck. In seconds, he had the officer subdued and lying dead, stuffed into the back of the truck. "You do now!"

He pulled out a crate of bottled milk and a briefcase and tore off his milkman uniform, revealing an officer's uniform. Entering the back door, he entered the emergency stairwell and climbed the several flights of steps up to his desired floor. Passing through several cubicles, nobody noticed him leave behind the briefcase.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sly exited the restroom, remembering to zip his fly before he left, taking note of an incident of nearly getting caught with it down. Passing towards through the cubicles, his ears picked up the chit-chat of his fellow officers unfortunate enough to get stuck with a cubicle instead of a private office. But then his ears picked up something strange. _Tic-tock-tick-tock_…

Turning around, he found a briefcase hidden amid the potted plants. Suspicious, Sly inched towards it. What he didn't expect was the ticking to stop.

KABOOM!

Sly was blown clear across the room as was nearly twenty square feet of office floor was disintegrated by the bomb.

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"What the hell was that!" Winthorpe exclaimed from his cubicle one floor up. "Holy shit!"

He was lucky. His desk was positioned practically next to the bomb below, and now the floor behind his chair was missing. But there was only one thing that came to his mind. "Carmelita!"

Rushing towards the emergency stairs, he knew that there was big trouble going on. He had a serious crush on Carmelita, and while he was heavily discouraged after learning about the Cooper-Fox relationship, there was the tiny hint of hope that if she was injured, he could come to her rescue and that would somehow lead to her ditching Constable Cooper and go for him.

"All officers, we have a major gas leak in the building," the radio on his belt blared. "Evacuate immediately!"

Winthorpe rushed down the stairs quickly stopping as he saw a condor in an officer's uniform repeat the message over the radio. He quickly bypassed him and ran for Carmelita's office. He tripped on something soft and fell to the debris covered floor. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that he had tripped over Constable Cooper's body; cloths tattered and burned, bleeding profusely from the nose and mouth in addition to trickles of blood running down from his hairline.

"Holy shit!" Winthorpe exclaimed again.

As he got up, he noticed the condor enter the floor, carrying a crate of milk bottles and a gun in hand, pointed out as if he was ready to shoot anybody opposing him. Quickly, Winthorpe made a mad dash for Carmelita's office.

The shockwave from the blast had been strong enough to blow the door inwards, slamming into Carmelita on its journey; knocking her out.

"Miss Fox!" Winthorpe exclaimed, squeezing past all the rubble. "Are you all right?"

Carmelita moaned. "Get out of my face dammit!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Several guys caught on. Emile was quick enough to chuck his milk bottles, exploding upon impact as they broke against the remaining walls and floor and taking out guys that were pulling their guns on him.

"We've just had another gas explosion, keep clear of the building!" Emile said over the radio.

He chucked another bottle, this one meant to scare people instead of killing them. He then headed for the hall to Inspector Fox's office. "Call for emergency ambulances and or helicopters immediately, we have casualties!"

He chucked one more bottle at the rubble before him, clearing out a path into Carmelita's office. He was rather shocked to find a weasel with Fox.

"Both of you!" He yelled, pointing his gun at them. "Do as I say or I'll kill both of you!"

"Easy there" Carmelita said, putting her hands behind her head. "Winthorpe, do as he says."

Winthorpe obliged, though he was already doing it the moment he saw the gun pointed at him.

"Move!" Emile demanded.

He ushered the down the flights of stairs and out into the back alley, where an ambulance waited for them.

"Who's that for?" Carmelita couldn't help but ask.

"YOU!" Emile said, slamming the stock of his gun down on the back of her head.

Winthorpe gasped as Carmelita collapsed to the ground unconscious.

"Help her in or I'll kill you both!" Emile demanded.

Winthorpe delicately laid Carmelita onto the stretcher inside the occupied ambulance and stepped out.

"Good!" Emile said, shedding his officer uniform to reveal that of a paramedic. "But you should've called in sick today!"

Emile fired a round, and Winthorpe collapsed to the ground, unconscious from the tranquilizer dart. Two thugs scooped him up and threw him into the back of the ambulance, shut the doors, and floored it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Paris Memorial Hospital-1700hrs**

Sly woke up to the voices of Chief Barkley and fellow officers. Everything was a blur to him. He was surprised to find himself in a hospital bed with the I.V. stuck in him and heart monitors on him.

"What's going on?" Sly asked.

"Your awake!" Chief Barkley smiled in relief. Sly had never seen him smile before. "Cooper, there was a gas leak, and it lead to an explosion that you were next to. You're one of the lucky few. At least four other officers were killed and ten here injured." He sighed. "We have two missing…"

Sly couldn't understand. What on earth was going on?

"…that intern Winthorpe and Inspector Fox."


	14. Kicked in the Teeth

**Kicked in the Teeth**

**Paris Memorial Hospital-0600hrs**

There was little that Sly could do. He didn't know where to find the bastards that took away his beloved Carmelita, and he didn't even know who it was. All he could do was wait; wait to be contacted, wait to be kidnapped-it didn't matter. He could barely feel anything with his left ring finger; it was nearly blown off by the explosion.

"Oh! Mister Cooper your up early," a nurse said as she entered his recovery room. "Somebody had left this for you."

She handed Sly a large envelope, the kind that had bubble wrap lining, and walked out, closing the door behind her. Sly looked at the front of the envelope- '_To Sly Cooper'_

Opening up the envelope, he found a large printed letter:

_Dear Cooper,_

_I believed it is thoughtful that we should tell you that we have your friends…and your girl. But don't worry! They're fine. For now. Now that one question has been answered, I shall answer the next and even more important question: Why am I doing this? Simple Cooper: power. Money brings power Sly, apparently a concept you were too noble to realize. As a birthright, you are unofficially the richest man in the world. You hold in your position untold riches of immeasurable wealth. I want those riches, and you are going to give it to me. I shall contact you at 10:00 PM your time, straight across from the main entrance of Centre Pompidou, center payphone next to the sculpture fountain. Do not contact anybody from your police detail; otherwise you will start receiving bits and pieces of your friends in the mail. Au Revoir Cooper._

_-Condor_

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**Centre Pompidou, Paris, France-2200hrs**

It hadn't been easy, but Sly had managed an escape from the hospital. Making despite having been through hell and a hand basket at the police station, his police uniform looked almost unflawed; a lie that was pulled off by the dim light from the streets. Nobody suspected anything wrong with him. By now, few people were even out on the streets, let alone hanging out at the payphones.

Sly checked his watch; 10:02 PM. They were late. And then as if on queue, the center payphone rang. The phone barely rang once as Sly hurriedly picked up the phone.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Ahhh, Cooper," a voice said over the line. "Its good to know that you've come alone. Even if you didn't come we'd probably still have caught you and beaten you senselessly. But then where's the fun in making you squirm at the idea of never seeing your friends ever again? And what about your _renarde _Fox? I'm sure you can't wait to be with her, even if the two of you are buried together in the same shallow grave. But that Winthorpe; such a weakling. You could probably shove a banana in his ass and he's scream as if you were disemboweling him with a rusty spoon."

"Get to the god damn point you batarde!" Sly venomously croaked.

"All in good time sailor mouth," the voice said.

"Where are you so I can tear out your spine?"

"Right next to you!"

Sly turned just in time to see a fist catch him in the face, sending him reeling into the payphone and knocking him out.

Emile hung up his cell phone with a smirk on his face and turned to his henchman. "Get him into the van."

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**Location unknown-time unknown**

"Quite, he's coming to. Sly? Do you hear me? Sly?"

Sly cautiously and painfully opened his eyes, much to his dismay. The bright lights from the ceiling hurt his eyes and made made his headache even worse. Everything was still a blur, but he could feel a very firm grip on him as he felt himself being propped up along a wall.

"Why do I feel like I've been kicked in the teeth?" Sly slipped out.

"Beats me but either way your stuck here with us," a sincere Latin voice said, cutting through the garbled talk of others.

Sly's eyes opened wide, trying hard not to wince at the pain of his headache being irritated by the light. He knew that voice, and he knew that grip. Two people he knew, and now he knew that the others were there too.

"Carmelita?" Sly asked, still trying to make out the blurs in his vision.

"I'm here Sly," Carmelita replied.

"As well as the rest of us," another nasally voice said.

With the help of his imagination, Sly was finally able to make out who was with him. With her hand on his shoulder and a 'Are you okay Baby?' look on her face was Carmelita. Winthorpe was standing by, looking nervous and uncomfortable being among wanted criminals, along with the look that he had been let down; it was no big secret he had major crush on Carmelita. Everyone else was gathered around him.

"Where am I?" Sly mumbled. His jaw hurt like hell.

"Dunno," Murray said. "But if 'The Murray' gets out of here anytime soon, people are gonna start wishing they had nevered screwed with the Cooper Gang."

"Jeez, not so loud Murray…" Sly started. But then he realized his mistake.

Carmelita and Winthorpe gaped in surprise and horror at him. But Sly knew that Winthorpe must be cheering on the inside that now Carmelita may be free.

"Oooh, racoonus doodus in macho macho prob!" Dimitri gawked.

"Oh SHUT THE HELL UP WITH YOUR SHITTY RAPPER JIVE TALK!" Bentley yelled, throwing his hands in the air. "Nobody can understand you half the time, AND I'M ABOUT READY TO STICK ONE OF MY EXPLOSIVES IN YOUR ASS IF YOU DON'T STOP HITTING ON PENELOPE!"

Sly managed to turn his attention away from the two arguing reptilians to meet Carmelita's gaze. It was clear that she was not pleased.

"You lied to me," she muttered venomously.

"I'm sorry…" Sly tried to speak, but it didn't leave his throat.

Carmelita quickly took her hand away from his shoulder and skulked to a corner. Sly was now clear of any attention, all of it on Bentley and Dimitri's argument. It was clear that being trapped in hell for a week frayed their nerves.

There was a gunshot and several guards entered the room, their guns pointed at the group. They parted and a condor entered.

"Take the raccoon," the condor said.

He backed off and watched as the guards rushed the group, tackling them down and pointing their guns to their heads as two of them snatched Sly off the ground. He put up little fight, not because he wanted to, but because he was now drained of any morale, knowing that the woman he loved at unofficially dumped him.

"So this is the great Sly Cooper?" Emile said. "I think Miss Fox gave a tougher struggle than you."

Sly reared his head spat in the condor's face. Emile backhanded the thief across the face, the jeweled ring cutting a gash on his face. But that didn't stop Sly.

"You can't keep me locked up," he grunted. "I'll be outta here tonight and come back tomorrow to bang your mom…"

This time, Emile swung around, delivering a roundhouse kicked to Sly's face. He was struck with so much force that he broke free of his holders and sprawled out on the ground.

"Take him to the interrogation room," Emile said. "I'm not done with him yet."

The guards pulled out of the room, dragging Sly along with him. His friends staring on in awe and pain.

"He is a goner," Panda King quietly said.

Maybe he was right.

* * *

Does anyone know what rock band did the song 'Kicked in the Teeth'? and if so what was the album?

Sorry about this long ass update-combonation of school and working on Leviathan have been keeping me busy.

Till bext time! NS


	15. A Deal with the Devil

**A Deal with the Devil**

**Location unknown-Time unknown**

Sly was tied to a pipe, his hands looped around the pole with his back pressed against it. Emile just stared at him, a cold menacing stare, as he slowly walked towards him. Then in one swift move, Emile kicked out Sly's legs out from beneath him and listened to him cry in pain. Sly felt as though his shoulders were going to dislodge as he struggled to pull his feet back to ease the pressure on his arms. But when he managed, Emile simply kicked them out again, this time even farther. Sly tried again, but he couldn't get a good grip with just his heels digging into the ground.

"I have to say Sly Cooper," Emile said. "You are a very persistent and admirable person. I like that in people."

"What do you want?" Sly chocked out, biting his lip in pain. "Why them? Why me?"

"What everybody wants," Emile said. "The root of all evil; money! By blood you have the greatest treasure find in all of the world. Each year it's older additions grow even more valuable. Your clan is nothing more than just your simple everyday criminal. It's the wealthy behind you that makes you extraordinary…"

"SHUT UP!"

"…and now I believe its time that I 'inherit' this wealth, just as so that your predecessors 'inherited' their loot…"

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"What's with you and Sly?" Penelope asked. "I mean one moment you are god damned concerned over him when those guards tossed his limp body in the cell, but then suddenly, you back into a corner aflame with hate for him."

"He lied," Carmelita mumbled, not turning to face Penelope.

"How did he lie?"

"He knew your pink friends name!"

"So?" Murray butted in. "I gave away my name. I freakin' told him pretty much."

"There you go," Bentley pointed out. "If Murray is making sense then you'd have to have fallen out of the stupid tree ten times and hit every branch every time on the way down not to get it."

"Oh damn" Carmelita sighed, putting her face in her hands. "I screwed up. It's the fact that he'd be around you guys, his friends, that I'm just edgy that he might remember something, or even worse, faked amnesia. I mean, I didn't even clue in on how he knew Murray's name."

"Inspector Fox," Panda King said. "We as the Cooper Gang are a family. And as a family we accept what's in the best interests in each other's hearts. Sly wanted to be close with you for a long time I can gather. None of us know why, but there was always something about you that made his gears turn. Whether or not he had memory loss, we would never jeopardize what's going for him."

"Aren't you the pyromaniac that killed his father?" Carmelita asked.

"Mind your own business," Panda King muttered under his breath.

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"You need the cane to open it up!" Sly choked.

"So then where is your cane?" Emile asked, drawing back his own hand after backhanding Sly's face, leaving a gash on his left cheek from the bejeweled ring on his finger.

"I don't know," Sly gasped. The pain was as unbearable as had when Dr. M's beast was crushing him. "I haven't seen it since Kaine Island!"

"Well maybe your turtle friend will help!"

A few minutes later, two guards walked in, tossing Bentley and Penelope onto the floor. Emile simply walked over to the couple and kicked both of them in the ribs; and the couple both made loud gasps of pain.

"You two are obviously the brains behind your outfit," Emile began. "So it would only seem right that you two are the ones that hid away the cane!"

"Don't waste your effort on my Penelope," Bentley moaned. "Only I know where to find the cane."

"THEN TELL ME!" Emile grunted, yanking the turtle by his neck into a standing position. His legs, while paralyzed, locked at the knee joint, allowing him to stand up as long as balance wasn't changed.

"No," Bentley seethed. "That money belongs to the Cooper Family…"

"Then I guess I'll need to give you some motivation!" Emile sneered, pulling out a Smith & Wesson and putting the muzzle to the back of his head. "You have to the count of three before I blow your smart little brains out over this room!"

"ONE…TWO…" then Emile just stopped. "SHIT! Godammit! It wouldn't do me any good to kill you!"

Then he set his sights on Penelope. "How about this turtle-boy. Seeing as how you love your girl in all, I'll give you a chance to save her. You tell me where that cane is…and I won't let my guards fondle her like a toy before I spew her guts out everywhere. And my selected guards haven't seen any 'action' in months."

"Tell him Bentley," Sly spoke up. Sly cared about Penelope as much as all the other members. She was 'family' and Sly knew that Bentley would forever be dead from watching the woman he loves suffer a humiliating death. "The fortune's not worth it."

"Okay!" Bentley said, staring at Penelope's shocked and mute face. "I'll tell you…"

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"What am I even doing here?" Winthorpe grunted in aggravation. "That ass has nothing to gain from me!"

"First of all shrimp," Murray said. "I'm sick of hearing you whine like a baby whose candy was taken from 'em. And also, you are the biggest moron I have seen. Even I know why they kidnapped you too."

"What then lard ass?" Winthorpe retorted.

Murray's face turned a deep red from anger. It was bad enough that he had to listen to this guy whine from having slept on his arm wrong, but when the guy called him names like he was bigger than him…

"You were there when that condor freak kidnapped Inspector Fox!" Murray yelled, attracting everyone's attention, including Carmelita's. "Of course they wouldn't let you go. Cause then your co-workers would know it was a kidnapping and the cops would be all over Sly like wimp on you!"

"HEY!"

"Speaking of…" Dimitri said. "What were you doing with Sly's squeeze?"

Carmelita was about to detest to the last part of that statement when Guru butted in. "gibberish"

"HEY!" Winthorpe yelped. "That's not fair, you can read minds!"

"You gonna answer the question or not?" Panda King asked.

"Fine," by this time Winthorpe had forgotten that Carmelita was even in their cell, being that he was surrounded by 'thugs' that could kill him ten times before he hit the ground. "With Sly knocked out, I thought I could aid you know who, and maybe upon realizing that I saved her, would move onto me…"

"WHAT?!" Carmelita roared.

Winthorpe actually felt liquid warmth dripping down his tattered pant leg, while in the background he could hear Dimitri utter "You little weak freak!" Murray's rage had too risen. He had grown very far above his tolerance for the guy, and now he was about to burst knowing that this dumbass was trying to move in on Sly's woman when she was at one of her most vulnerable times.

"I OUGHT TO KICK YOU IN THE NADS SO HARD THAT IT BE CONSIDERED A V.D. YOU STUPID SON OF A BITCH!" Carmelita bellowed.

Had Guru not of used his telekinesis to forcefully calm her down, she probably would have knocked his eggs out through his mouth. But the guards barged in anyway to make sure she cause any more trouble. Still kicking and screaming-though not as fiercely as a few seconds before-Carmelita continued to bellow out every word in the dictionary that could be used as an insulting swear in her native Spanish.

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Sly realized that he had must of blacked out. He could feel pain, which had its own perks on behalf that it meant he wasn't dead. But now he couldn't feel his arms. For a moment he thought they were dislocated, but he didn't panic. The back of his feet ached from being kicked out from beneath him all the time, and his wrist where chafed from their bindings. After a few more minutes in his dazed stupor, he soon realized that once again, he was not alone.

"Dammit," Sly muttered. "Not again. Not another black out…"

"Wake up Sly," a sincere voice said.

"Carmelita?"

"I'm here Sly," Carmelita replied.

Sly's daze quickly cleared up, and he was once again staring into her beautiful eyes. And like last time, they showed concern. There was not a single trace of malice in them.

"I'm sorry Sly," she spoke. "I'm the one that lied."

"What are you talking about?" Sly asked. He didn't exactly know where this was going, but he had a feeling.

"You were never a police officer," Carmelita continued. "You were a thief, and a pretty damn hard to catch one at that. Those guys…they were your cohorts, your friends. And then you lost your memories…

But Sly pressed his finger against her lips to stop her. "Carmelita, I know what happened. I never lost my memories. That was fake…but everything else between us, that date, that kiss…that was all real. I gave up that life of crime, for this thing between us. It may have only been a month…but if I could do it all over again…I would still go with you…because I love you."

Part of her wanted to smack him, to put it mildly, for his lies. But the rest of her just wanted to come clean. Then she looked at her hand. Despite the severe numbness of his arms, Sly had still managed to forced his hand gently onto hers. And for a second their hands intertwined.

But then instead, she ripped her hand away from his and leered at him. Sly thought that she was about to hit him, or yell at the top of her lungs at his face. Instead, her features proved deceptive. She swooped down on him like a vulture. After the first few seconds of his utter surprise, he managed to put his back into it. Using all his strength, he managed to push his elbows into the cement floor of their enclosed cell, pushing her over onto her back so that he was on top of her.

"Not here," Carmelita whispered.

"I had no intent on doing that," Sly replied in a hushed tone, and slid off.

What little energy he had to begin with, he had spent. And was now sleeping.

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Sly was getting sick of waking up to find he was either in pain, in a new room, or tied up. This time he was in a chair, tied to the legs and armrests. Across from him was Emile. And behind him was a TV monitor.

"You're getting on my nerves," Sly grunted.

"Don't worry Cooper," Emile said. "You won't go through any more of this pretty soon. All I need from you now is the cane."

"I don't have it!"

"I never said that you did," Emile replied. "I need you to get it for me!"

"And why should I?" Sly said.

"Because," Emile said, turning on the TV. "You wouldn't want anything to happen to her now, eh?"

On camera, Sly could see in horror Carmelita was chain to the floor by her wrists and ankles, while she was in addition surrounded by a few guards that were eyeing her hungrily.

Sly simply gasped. "Of course that Penelope girl didn't wasn't exactly my men's type," Emile said. "And I do believe that this way provides better motivation. When I release you, you'll have no more than twenty-four hours to get me your cane. If you miss the deadline, each guard will do their thing to her for every hour you are late. After five hours, she will slowly be killed, followed by all your friends. Then I will come after you."

Sly's ears flattened and he dropped his head. "Fine" he muttered in defeat.

* * *

_A/N: I know it seems strange that Carmelita would freak out like she did at Winthorpe, but hey, wouldn't you be freaking mental after an explaination that someone was scheming behind your back over something like that?_

_I gotta say that it took forever to me to write this chapter, I in my mind this had a darker feel to it, so tell me what you think._

* * *

Also, last chapter's title _'Kicked in the Teeth'_ was an _AC/DC_ song from the album _Powerage_ (which is my favorite album made by them.) 


	16. Break the Law

**Break the Law**

Sly had no idea that he shared the same building as his cane for the past months. Stashed in the important evidence vault on the second floor, the cane was perhaps the most prided artifact ever confiscated by Interpol. During a sting operation shortly after Bentley and Penelope sealed the new vault, the two lost the cane, but could not steal it back on the grounds that sneaking into the evidence locker in the middle of a building filled with enough armed men to occupy Cherbourg would have been suicide. Now Sly had to get in.

"Constable Cooper?!" assistant said. "I thought you were…"

"Gone?" Sly ended. "No, I left to clear my head."

"By the way," the assistant said. "Steer clear of your office floor, it was incinerated in the explosions, and don't let Barkley catch you here, he'll string you up your thumbs for leaving the hospital against his orders and just disappearing."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sly said, heading for the elevator. But instead of entering the elevators, he ducked into the stairs, and headed for the second floor.

He walked past the maze of offices and cubicles towards the evidence vault. There were a few people who took notice. But one of them was one that Sly wished he hadn't noticed.

"If it isn't ol' Cooper," Charlie said.

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Sly entered the evidence room, heading for the vault. But because of the new pass code system, he'd have to use his ID to enter. Slipping the ID in the slot then out, the locks for the vault came away, allowing passage.

There were several items, including a sniper rifle that was meant to be used against a mob witness. But stashed in a bullet proof case and marked extremely important, was his cane. But Sly knew that there was no way to open it up without Chief Barkley's passkey. So he decided an alternative.

He exited the room and down the hall to the fire axe. He pried open the case and grabbed the axe, marching back into the vault and swinging the blade down into glass panel. Using several forceful blows, the glass started to give. Giving the panel a good kick, it fell away, leaving the cane open to him. He grabbed his heirloom and made a break for the exit, but not before grabbing his leg pouch that had also been captured. But apparently some people had other plans for him.

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"Sorry Cooper, but you're under arrest!" Barkley commanded.

Sly just stood there in surprise. There in front of him, stood several armed cops, guns pointed at him.

"Nice to see ya again Cooper!" Charlie taunted.

"Is this about me breaking your nose?" Sly asked, pretending to ignore the other men and focus his attention on Charlie. "Because I would be so glad to break it again…and again…and again…and maybe jam your nads into a paper shredder."

"SHUT UP COOPER!" Barkely yelled. "And to think I was going to give a promotion to you. But instead it looks like you're going up the river."

"Really?" Sly asked, reaching into his pouch.

In one swift motion, he brought his hand out, throwing something into the ground. The object exploded on impact, causing an instant cloud of smoke. Several cops coughed before the cloud cleared. And then Sly was gone.

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Taking the elevator to the lobby, he was dismayed to find that several more of the cops had gathered there, ready to turn him into cheese. The elevator doors closed just in time for the hail of bullets to come. Sly had no choice but to head for the roof.

The elevator reached the waiting room for the roof top helipad, and to his dismay, a helicopter was heading towards the building, making it impossible to escape by rooftop. So he hid behind the door to the stairs.

BANG!

The stairwell door burst open, slamming in front of Sly and cleverly hiding him. Several men burst into the lobby toting Clarions and 45. Magnums. But as the door started to close, Sly slipped in, the door closing behind him. Grabbing a fire extinguisher off the wall of the stair landing, he jammed the cylinder in knob.

"He's in the stairs!" he could hear someone say, but now the men were locked out of the stairs.

Sly ran as fast as he could down the stairs, but he could here others running up towards him and he took a detour onto his office floor. The chaos from the bombing had left the level of the building scorched and desolate. There were holes in the floor. More men appeared on the other side of the floor near the offices yelling "FREEZE!"

Sly fell to the ground, sliding across the rubble strewn ground until he fell through a hole, landing on the floor beneath. As soon as he hit the ground, he ran for the stairs. He bashed through the door, hoping over the railing and pit and onto the opposite landing continuing down the stairs. On the third floor landing, another cop burst through the door, but none other than Charlie.

"Sorry, can't talk!" Sly yelled. "But I can sure kick your ASS!"

He slammed into Charlie as he swung a gun towards him, but Sly knocked it out with his cane. He grabbed Charlie by the back of the neck and slammed his forehead into the wall, pulling him back with such force that when Charlie slammed into the stair railing, he went over it and tumbled the two stories down, both feet hitting the ground, breaking his legs.

Sly continued down the stairs, bursting through the back door and into the alleyway. He jumped down into the sewers, pulling the manhole over his opening.

Two seconds later, Barkley and several others burst into the alley. "SON OF A BITCH!" he yelled.

Sly Cooper was gone, and with him was his cane, his gear, and what little left of Charlie's dignity.

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"He's got it!" Yves announced.

"Cooper got the cane?" Emile asked hopefully.

"Yeah!" Yves said. "But he put a cop in intensive care, not that we should care."

"Good!" Emile smiled. "He's still got about eight hours to meet with our guys."

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The GSX tore through the Parisian suburbs towards Orleans, from there, he would be told where to go. Night was starting to fall when he reached his designated payphone in Orleans.

"I got it!" Sly said. "Now tell your men to back off of Carmelita!"

"Now lets not get too hasty," Emile replied over the phone. "Now the deadline's changed. I want you at the Lancastria Café in Nante in five hours. It's along the waterfront. And no funny business, or she gets it!"

The line went dead.

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The Lancastria Café was a rundown backwater shack. Sly marched in, hoping to see Emile. With him was his cane. But instead of Emile, he found the café devoid of any life, and then something hit him.

Sly looked down at his shoulder, and pulled out what appeared to be a dart.

"Nighty-night Sly Cooper," Emile said as he watched Sly collapse to the ground.

* * *

Please excuse the lack of dialogue, and possible vagueness of the entire chapter, but the next chappy should be better. I would like to note that Emile and his men will unfortunately not get a chance to get into the vault, since the next few chapters will be all about Sly kicking ass and lobing off grenades and all that other violent stuff.

Apparently I'm breaking into my uncontrollable habit of not finishing what I've started, and now I feel the urge to work on another story. But luckily I'll only post three chappters of it and see what people think about it. This time it'll be about some mad dog serial killer who seems to be targeting Carmelita and violently dispatching anyone who gets in his way (If you've watched any of the _Halloween_ franchise movies, then the storyline should be very familiar, as well as the deaths...

Anyway, I'm nearly done with the next chapter to _Leviathan_, so expect it sometime in the near future.


End file.
